


The Recovery

by Requin



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluffy Smut, Hurt/Comfort, it's tropey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requin/pseuds/Requin
Summary: Bernie will always have Serena's back.





	The Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Still writing ideas coming from [TheProdigalSapphist's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProdigalSapphist/pseuds/TheProdigalSapphist) brain, so this is for her!

Serena pauses as she gets out of her car and frowns. There is an odd pressure in her lower abdomen, and when she turns to reach for her bag, the pressure turns into a prick of pain. Nothing too serious, she decides when the feeling passes. She shrugs. She’s already late, and has back to back surgeries scheduled from the early morning. 

She sees Bernie as she scrubs up and as usual her heart speeds up, and before she knows it she’s smiling. They’ve agreed to stay friends, but that doesn’t mean she can’t look a little. She’s been doing a bit of self introspection to see what these feelings for Bernie might mean. She calls it meditation through Shiraz, and the results are thus: she’s really into Berenice Wolfe. Alas, the agreement. She sighs as she washes her hands. Bernie has her hair up and Serena tries not to stare at the tendons meeting the delicate collarbones. Bernie is talking to a patient. It’s a liver issue, if Serena remembers correctly, and she watches as Bernie presses her hands on the young man’s mid rift. She can’t hear what Bernie is saying, but her eyes are soft and her manner confident and calm. The patient looks reassured. 

When Serena does the first incision a few minutes later, she feels flushed and warm but she puts it down to the bright lights in theatre. 

Serena sends off her last email with a satisfied smile, practically giddy at her efficiency. She gets up, fully intent on leaving on time for once, thinks she’ll ask Bernie out for a quiet drink, wonders what Bernie will wear because she hasn’t seen her out of her scrubs today, but her head suddenly spins. There is something wrong, her brain screams. She feels pain blossoming in her abdomen, a sharp stab that takes her breath away. Her hand tries to find purchase on the desk for support, but misses, and she crumples to the floor without a sound. 

Bernie is hands deep in a chest cavity, her fingers prodding a liver for any perforations, when she feels a shift in the air. She looks around, eyes narrowed, but the scrub nurse is as attentive as ever and the anaesthetist’s face is calm. BP is regular. She still feels unease, a disquiet that nags at her as she strokes the rough flesh of the organ. The operation is going well. She’s done it a hundred times. The room is quiet save for various beeps and murmured instructions. Bernie is about to ask for more light when the intercom buzzes to life. She looks up and sees Hanssen standing there with a sombre face. Her heart stops. She immediately thinks of Charlotte and Cameron, but then a wave of panic hits her. Serena. Serena who had winced when walking around the ward, who had looked a little clammy all day. She stills, her hands around a young man’s liver. 

“Ms Wolfe, please listen very carefully. Serena collapsed in the office. She is in theatre as we speak.”

There are other words but Bernie does not hear them. She removes her hands from the patient, her mind intent on one thing only: get to Serena, now. She nods at her relief, snaps off her gloves, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow. Get to Serena, now. 

Hanssen is the scrubs room waiting for her. 

“What happened?” Bernie asks at once, trying to remove her surgical gown and to wash her hands at the same time. 

She feels Hanssen step behind her. He stills her and he starts untying the various knots at her back. 

“Appendicitis. The appendix was about to rupture,” he replies, his voice smooth and reassuring. 

Bernie wills her heart to slow down. The surgery is easy, the success rate excellent, and there is no need to worry, but just the thought of Serena lying on an operating table is enough to tie her stomach in knots. She can feel her palms sweat. 

“Which bay?” She asks curtly as they exist the scrub room. 

“Bay 5”

Bernie almost jogs to the theatre and stops when she realises Serena is already being operating on. Ric Griffin of all people is in there. She turns to Hanssen, furious. 

“What is he doing in there?”

“Mr Griffin is an excellent surgeon, Ms Wolfe,” Hanssen says calmly.

“I am better,” Bernie replies. 

It’s not a boast. She really is better, more focused, more inventive, quicker to think on her feet. Hanssen tilts his head and she feels about 3ft tall.

“Maybe so, but I couldn’t let you operate on Ms Campbell,” he says levelly. 

Bernie turns towards the window. She can’t see Serena’s face from this angle. Ric is rummaging around with a scalpel and Bernie knows exactly where he is in the operation and which step is next. Her breathe catches in her throat when her eyes turn to the monitor behind the scrub nurse. She can see inside Serena, can see her organs, her blood, her flesh ripped open. She swallows, beads of sweat pooling above her upper lip. Her hands never tremble in times of stress, she is a front line trauma surgeon after all, but her skin feels damp and she is finding it difficult to breathe. Hanssen shifts closer. 

“In and out, Ms Wolfe. In and out,” he says slowly. 

Bernie closes her eyes and does as he says. The dread and the fear are still there but after a few seconds her heartbeat begins to slow down and she doesn’t feel as lightheaded. 

“Let me go in, at least,” she whispers. 

She knows it’s a long shot. Surgical theatres have nothing common with their West End counterparts. One cannot just waltz in. Hanssen, predictably, shakes his head. His eyes are kind.

“You can stay and watch, and no doubt critique Mr Griffin’s technique.” 

She nods, her eyes riveted on the figure lying prone under Ric’s gaze. She dimly hears Hanssen leave. 

Ric is efficient and Bernie follows his movements carefully. Her mind, however, drifts to earlier that day. Serena had looked so beautiful. She always looked beautiful, Bernie thought ruefully, but particularly so that morning with her flushed cheeks and her sparkling eyes. She should have said something when Serena had pressed a hand to her side, Bernie berates herself. But they’d been a little cautious around each other for the past couple of weeks, their conversations careful, their body language a bit distant. Bernie sighs and she shifts on her feet. She doesn’t regret kissing Serena, far from it. In fact, she thinks about it all the time, thinks about Serena’s soft lips, her dark eyes full of surprise and want, her hands clutching her forearms. She spends a lot of time remembering the feel of Serena’s hair, the whimper that caught in Serena’s throat, how beautiful she looked. 

She does however cringe at the memory of Serena the following day. She knows she’s made the right call. They are the best of friends, it would be a shame to ruin that because she didn’t think for a second. She can control herself better, she vows as she watches Ric. 

The surgery doesn’t take long, and soon Ric is suturing what will be an impressive scar. His body language is calm, and she smiles when the anaesthetist gives the room a thumbs up. She jumps on Ric as soon as he leaves. 

“It went well. The appendix was on the verge of rupturing, though. She’ll need rest and a mean course of antibiotics,” he says, washing his hands meticulously. 

Bernie winces. An inflamed appendix means bed rest and being off work for a few days. Serena is going to hate that. She needs to call Jason and explain to him how his routine will be disturbed enough to warrant a stay at Alan’s. Serena is wheeled out and Bernie gets her first good look at her. She walks with the gurney until they reach a room, and as soon as the porters leave she removes the surgical cap on Serena’s head. Serena’s hair is all over the place. Her face is free of make up, her skin looks thin and she looks vulnerable and small. Bernie’s heart lurches and she has to sit down, suddenly confronted with Serena’s mortality. The operation was always going to be a success, but she’d always seen Serena as a force of nature, larger than life, brilliant and always in control. 

She grabs one of Serena’s hands and strokes the knuckles, and waits for Serena to wake up. Her skin is soft, and Bernie traces all the features she wants to touch but won’t dare to. 

The door opens and Hanssen steps in. He checks the chart at the bottom of Serena’s bed, nods, and a small smile plays on his lips. 

“She will need care at home for a few days,” he says. 

Bernie hums her agreement. Ric is an excellent surgeon but Serena still has a scar with stitches that will need to be kept dry, and her movements will be reduced greatly. No heavy lifting, no driving, no strenuous activity of any kind. 

“A familiar face would go a long way in her recovery,” Hanssen continues. 

For a second, Bernie wonders what he means. She’s still looking at Serena, at the attractive curl of her upper lip. She frowns when her brain catches up. She asks herself what he knows, what he’s guessed, what he’s been told. A hospital is a small place, Bernie has discovered, and despite her best efforts to keep her feelings to herself, Ric has definitely been looking at her differently. 

Hanssen is still there looming at the end of the bed. 

“I, uh, don’t think…what about the ward?” Bernie asks, a little desperately. 

It’s not like she can tell Hanssen the real reason why her caring for Serena would be a monumental mistake. “I am so attracted to her I can barely function,” doesn’t seem like an acceptable thing to say to her boss. 

Hanssen’s eyebrow rises and Bernie swears he’s two seconds away from laughing at her. 

“I’m sure Mr Griffin can be persuaded to look after AAU for a short period of time,” he says, his voice even. 

Bernie slouches slightly. When it comes down to it, Serena is her best friend, and caring for each other in times of need is something that best friends do. She squares her shoulders. So what if it’ll be hard to be that close to Serena? She’s a grown woman, Serena needs her, and that’s all there is to it. Serena would do the same for her. 

“Of course,” Bernie says simply. 

Hanssen nods and leaves. The sun is setting down behind the trees opposite the hospital, and Bernie resumes her vigil, her hand still linked to Serena’s. She feels a twitch, looks up, and sees Serena starting to wake up. Her eyes are unfocused and groggy. She groans.

“Hey, you. You just had an appendectomy. Everything went well,” Bernie says softly. 

Serena’s eyes settle on her face. She clears her throat. Bernie hands her a cup of water and Serena drinks gratefully.

“I, uh, Jason?” Serena asks. 

Bernie smiles reassuringly. 

“He’s alright. He’s going to stay with Alan for a few days. He’ll come round in a bit to see you,” she says.

Serena nods and then moans in pain. Bernie sits up. 

“I feel like I’ve been in the wars,” she groans. 

“The anaesthetic is wearing off. They’ll keep you overnight and you can go home tomorrow.”

Serena hums. Bernie leans forward, her heart beating a little faster. She wets her lips. 

“You’re going to need someone to look after you for a few days,” she starts, holding her free hand to forestall the argument forming on Serena’s lips. “You’re not invincible, Serena. You’ve just had a general anaesthetic. So, um, how about I stay with you for few days?” She asks, her words coming out in a rush. 

She knows her cheeks are pink. Serena just stares at her for a second, her eyes very wide. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, we can get you an agency nurse,” Bernie says, her belly plummeting to her shoes. 

Serena shakes her head quickly, she obviously wants to sit up but she grimaces in pain and settles for squeezing Bernie’s hand. Bernie starts. They are still holding hands. 

“No, no! I’d rather be with you. I mean, have you. To take care of me,” Serena says quickly. 

Bernie laughs a little, her head down, and nods with a smile. 

“Ok. Ok, I’ll take you home tomorrow,” she says. 

“Thank you.”

Serena’s eyes are dark and Bernie can’t seem to look away. Someone clears their throat behind Bernie and they both jump, startled. The duty nurse smiles as she holds up bandages. Bernie gets up, regretfully dropping Serena’s hand for the first time in an hour. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ve got a few hours to go, but I’ll come to check on you in a bit?”

Serena smiles and nods. Bernie is almost at the door when Serena speaks again. 

“Thank you, Bernie.” 

She turns with a smile. The nurse is at the foot of the bed preparing the bandages. 

“You’re very welcome,” she replies softly. 

 

When the front door closes and they are alone in Serena’s house, they look at each other a little gingerly. Bernie’s been to Serena’s house once, for a cup of tea after dropping Serena off after work, but that was before they kissed, and now it’s a little awkward. At least Bernie knows the general layout of the house, so she gently steers Serena towards the sofa and goes about making them lunch. 

“Cheese sandwiches ok?” She shouts towards the living room. 

“Anything after the dreadful food of the hospital,” Serena replies. 

Bernie brings in a tray and they settle in front of the turned off telly. Bernie sees Serena inspect her plate. 

“Oi! I can cook you know!” She says in mock outrage. 

Serena gives her a smile that can only be described as cheeky. 

“And what is in your repertoire, Ms Wolfe?” 

“I’ll have you know that I can make a mean lamb curry, and, uh, I’m pretty sure I could remember what goes in beef stroganoff,” Bernie says a little heatedly. 

Serena laughs and puts her hands up. Her colour is much better already, and her eyes crinkle in merriment. Only Serena could look this good after a surgery, Bernie thinks as she pouts for show, much to Serena’s delight. 

Serena starts to flag after lunch, and when Bernie comes back from cleaning up after them, Serena’s eyes are droopy and unfocused. 

“Alright, up we get Campbell. Time for a nap,” Bernie says decisively. 

Serena puts up a token protest but her words are slurred. Bernie ponders logistics for a bit, shrugs, and simply bends down, puts an arm behind Serena’s knees, the other behind her shoulders, and carries her out of the room. Serena squawks but doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t weigh as much as some of the packs Bernie has had to carry over the years, and she is far more enjoyable to hold in her arms. 

“Oh my,” Serena slurs when they approach the stairs. “I bet that move gets you all the ladies.”

Bernie chuckles. Serena snuggles into her chest and she looks adorable. She deduces which room must be Serena’s and gently places her on her bed, a huge wooden beast that has a mattress to die for. Serena sinks into her pillows and hums happily, her eyes closed. Bernie fusses with the cover for a minute, makes sure Serena has water and her phone nearby. Then, after hesitating, she leans down and places a soft kiss on Serena’s forehead. She smiles when Serena mumbles something intelligible. 

“Sleep well,” she whispers as she leaves the room, heart hammering in her chest.

She needs to get a grip, she thinks when she comes back down into the living room. Serena needs care, not lusting after. She calls Jason to check up on him, and he seems happy enough hanging out with Alan. They talk about a documentary on migratory birds that he watched the previous evening, and he tells her in great detail which mug to use and how to stack the dishwasher. 

“You can use the yellow mug, Dr Bernie, and you can’t drink the ginger lemonade, because that’s mine, but you can have the apple juice and the orange juice,” he explains. 

Bernie smiles as she straightens the sofa cushions. 

“Thank you, Jason, I’ll try to remember,” she says. 

“Will Auntie Serena sleep all day?” 

“Maybe just for a few hours, and then we’ll have dinner and watch a movie.” 

“She likes the ones with Colin Firth. She says he’s a fox, but I don’t find foxes attractive, do you Dr Bernie?” Jason asks, obviously puzzled. 

Bernie bites the inside of her cheek. 

 

The afternoon is spent grocery shopping and catching up on medical journals. Bernie isn’t used to down time, but the quiet is rather nice. Serena’s house is comfortable and cosy, and she takes her time looking around, smiling at the pictures on the wall and the books in the little study. Serena’s made this a true home for her and Jason, and it shows. Bernie tries not to compare it with her flat, thinks its state reflects her life perfectly: half unpacked, a bit messy, minimalist and bare. 

She brings up a cup of tea when darkness starts to creep into the front garden. She knocks on the door, hears a faint “come in” and finds Serena propped up on her pillows, hair mussed and sleep still evident on her features. 

“Oh, you’re a life saver,” Serena whispers when she takes the mug. 

Bernie looks around, unsure where she should sit, until Serena pats the bed next to her hips and she sits down, posture ramrod straight and hands in her lap. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks with a smile. 

“Like a log. I feel a bit grimy, though,” Serena says as she sips her tea. 

“Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll make a start on dinner.”

Serena looks uncomfortable, and Bernie can’t figure out why. 

“I, uh, I don’t think I’ll be able to reach my hair,” she says softly. 

Bernie feels the words warm her chest and she has to look away, a flush creeping up her neck. 

“Right. Well, I can help. I can…I can wash your hair in the sink, if you want?” 

When she looks back at Serena, the air is tense and she brushes off an imaginary piece of lint from the duvet cover to hide her blush.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Serena says. 

Bernie releases the breath she’s been holding. “Keep it together Wolfe,” she says to herself as Serena gets up carefully and heads for her bathroom. Bernie keeps an ear out just in case Serena has any difficulty, but the water soon goes on and she looks around instead. The bedroom is very much like Serena, lush and inviting, with rich colours and a deep carpet that Bernie sinks her toes in. There is a photo of Elinor on the nightstand on the right side, and Bernie looks at that instead of thinking of Serena in the shower. 

When Serena comes out in a fluffy wine-coloured robe, her feet bare with painted toes, Bernie breathes in slowly and tries to smile. She hopes it doesn’t come out as a grimace, but Serena doesn’t mention anything, smiles back. 

“Ok. Sink?” Bernie asks with trepidation. 

Serena tilts her head towards the bathroom, and there is an honest to god claw foot bathtub in there, and unlit candles, and a variety of creams and tubs of undetermined uses. The room is humid and fragrant. It smells like Serena, and Bernie’s heart speeds up a little, her belly swooping. 

“I’ll bring a chair in and you can sit here,” Bernie instructs, glad to be back in charge. 

She grabs a soft looking chair from the bedroom and drags it in. Serena’s eyes are soft as she sets up the chair to face away from the sink. 

“And voila! Salon Wolfe is open for business,” Bernie says with a flourish. 

Serena laughs and sits down slowly. Bernie positions herself next to her, makes sure Serena is comfortable, and runs water in the sink until it’s pleasantly warm. 

“What should I use?” Bernie asks.

“The blue bottle, and then that pink one. It’s the conditioner.” 

Bernie grabs both. She rummages under the sink for a bit until she finds a plastic glass, fills it water, and gently guides Serena’s head closer. Serena closes her eyes and hums happily when Bernie tips the water over her hair. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” she whispers. 

Bernie worries her bottom lip with her teeth. Serena looks so at peace and beautiful, and she aches to touch her and press her lips to her skin. Instead, after a few shaky breaths, she grabs the shampoo, squeezes out a dollop and gently massages Serena’s scalp. She desperately tries not to find the action erotic, but it’s hard when Serena moans a little, her neck strained back and her lips parted. 

“Oh, that’s very nice, Bernie.” Serena says softly. 

Bernie smiles, happy to give her this at least. Her hair is soft and silky when she washes it off. She grabs the conditioner, the one that has a ludicrous name, something like “unicorn cloud”, and lathers it on Serena’s wet strands. She takes her time, massages Serena’s neck while she’s at it, works the knots next to the spine, revels in Serena’s pleased sighs. She slips her fingers back up, against Serena’s scalp, presses her thumbs on Serena’s temples. 

“God, you were made to do this,” Serena drawls. 

Bernie laughs and tries not to hyperventilate. It’s awfully warm now, and the only source of light is the light around the mirror above the sink. It gives everything a warm glow, and Bernie can drink in the sight of Serena content and relaxed. She washes off the conditioner and grabs a towel, dries off the water, and twists the towel in a vague turban shape. 

“There you go, all clean,” Bernie declares. 

Serena gets up and turns around, takes a step and suddenly she is in Bernie’s arms, all soft and warm. 

“Thank you,” Bernie hears from somewhere near her shoulder. 

She puts her arms around Serena and kisses her temple. The gesture is meant to be soothing, but Bernie can’t help the thrill that thrums through her body. Serena is perfect against her, like she was made to be hugged like this. 

“Come on, let’s put some food in you,” Bernie whispers against Serena’s temple.

 

It takes more convincing to get Serena to bed at a reasonable hour. She’s slept through most of the afternoon, and even a warm stew doesn’t lull her. Bernie gives up and suggest watching a few episodes of Pride and Prejudice. 

“I wouldn’t have pictured you as a Jane Austen fan,” Serena remarks as Bernie puts on the DVD.

“I really like period dramas, actually. Something about the costumes,” Bernie replies. 

They settle on the sofa. Bernie puts a blanket over them and Serena cuddles into her. It’s all very domestic and Bernie almost passes out when Serena lays her head on her shoulder. 

“Me too. I wish I’d lived during that time, with the balls and the dresses,” Serena says a little sleepily. 

“You would look beautiful,” Bernie says without thinking. 

She stills, cringing, but Serena just smiles and huffs against her shoulder. 

“Oh hush, you would be the gorgeous one, with your figure,” Serena says. 

She snuggles even closer, her body flush against Bernie’s. Bernie doesn’t really know what to say to that. She’s never thought of herself as beautiful. She’s all gangly and skinny and hard, not like Serena who is lush and curvy and fit to be ravished and worshipped. So, she doesn’t reply, scoffs instead and watches as Elizabeth Bennett steals every scene. What’s so special about Colin Firth anyway, she thinks a little crossly. 

After two episodes Serena is sound asleep, which makes Bernie chuckle. She is buried into Bernie, her arm around Bernie’s mid rift, her face pressed against Bernie’s neck, her breathing deep and regular. She looks peaceful and Bernie is loathed to wake her up. So, for the second time that day, she takes Serena in her arms and carries her upstairs to bed. 

She thinks Serena is still sleeping when she lays her on the bed, but when she makes a move to disentangle herself, Serena tenses her hands and frowns. 

“Stay,” she mumbles, her voice heavy with sleep. 

Bernie stops, her knees still on the bed, conflicted and unsure. 

“Stay, please,” Serena repeats. 

And then she makes it impossible for Bernie to leave. She draws Bernie closer and makes a nest for herself in Bernie’s arms. She falls asleep straightaway. Bernie, a little shell shocked, takes a while to relax. She shifts so that Serena is plastered against her side with her head on Bernie’s shoulder, and soon Serena’s breathing lulls her to sleep. 

 

Bernie opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is Serena’s nape. They are intertwined, Bernie cradling Serena from behind, and Bernie doesn’t think she’s ever been more comfortable. Serena twitches and Bernie draws back, a little self conscious. 

“Morning,” Serena says. 

Her voice is low and gravelly, and Bernie can feel it all the way down her belly. It’s truly a marvellous sound. Her body is warm and when she turns she gives Bernie a blinding smile. It makes Bernie dizzy with want and something else that’s been there from the start, begging to come to the surface. Her eyes widen and her heart skips. 

It’s 7.05 on a Wednesday morning and Bernie has just realised she is completely, head over heels, in love with Serena. 

In the next breath Serena winces and Bernie sits up, worried. 

“Let’s change your bandage,” she says, already half out of bed. 

It’s only when she reaches the other side of the room and she hears Serena’s chuckle, that she realises she is still wearing the same clothes as the previous day. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you,” Serena says a little sheepishly. 

Bernie waves off the apology, her cheeks burning. She comes back to bed with the bandages in hand and Serena has already opened her robe and rucked up her t-shirt. Bernie gulps, slides next to her, tells herself to concentrate, and leans forward to inspect the gauze. 

“Looks good. No leaking. Stitches are holding nicely,” she says in her best professional voice. 

She knows without looking up that Serena is smiling. She presses lightly around the wound, feels around for any soreness, and then re dresses the bandages quickly. The whole operation only lasts two minutes but it feels like a lifetime. When she draws back, Bernie knows Serena’s skin is as soft as she’d imagined. 

“Will that be all, Dr Wolfe?” Serena asks with a raised eyebrow and mock naivety. 

Bernie presses her lips together in merriment. 

“That will be all, Ms Campbell, you are a most satisfactory patient,” she says, her voice high and breathy, a parody of her doctor voice. 

Serena laughs and Bernie thinks she could do this for ever, could just be with Serena always and talk to her and make her laugh and wake up next to her every day. She smiles and something shifts. Serena is suddenly very close and all Bernie can see are her dark eyes. They flit to Bernie’s lips and Serena leans forwards, and they’re kissing, and it’s soft and wet and there’s a rushing sound in Bernie’s ears. She braces herself on Serena’s shoulders, feels Serena wrap her arms around her back and they’re pressed together. Bernie gasps when Serena teases her mouth open, whimpers at the feel of Serena’s tongue. She’s so turned on her head spins. It’s only when Serena shifts and grimaces that Bernie comes back down to Earth, breathless and her forehead pressed against Serena’s. 

“Jesus,” she says shakily. 

Serena hums and kisses her cheeks, her jaw, her cheekbones, her hands mapping Bernie’s face. Bernie feels cherished and precious, not a feeling she’s very familiar with. 

“You are so beautiful,” Serena whispers, her lips just above her temple. 

Bernie flushes and closes her eyes, lets the words wash over her like a soothing balm. 

“I love you,” she says simply. 

It’s a relief and a joy to say it. It feels right, like the pieces of the puzzle of her life are finally fitting. Serena draws back and smiles that brilliant smile again, and everything is brighter. 

“I love you, too,” Serena replies, her voice full of wonder. 

They grin at each other in the morning light. They kiss again, and Bernie quickly gets lost in Serena’s luscious mouth, puts her hands on Serena’s face and drinks in her whimpers. She feels one of Serena’s hand slipping under her shirt and draws back with a chuckle. Serena pouts. 

“No strenuous activity, Ms Campbell,” Bernie chastises. 

“I feel fine,” Serena says against her neck. 

“I’m sure you do, but you still have stitches.”

It is very hard to be reasonable with a half dressed Serena almost on her lap, but Bernie is not an idiot and Serena being healthy is the most important thing. She says as much to Serena who pouts some more but settles for more kissing. And they are good, excellent kisses, all tongue and teeth and moaning, with hands in each other’s hair. Kissing Serena Campbell should be classed as a religious experience, Bernie thinks wildly as she swipes Serena’s bottom lip with her tongue. She doesn’t think she’s ever been kissed this well, this wantonly, as if Serena would die if she wasn’t kissing her.

“Oh god, I knew you would be good at this,” Serena whispers against her lips. 

Bernie exhales and smiles, breathless and deliriously happy. They are rudely interrupted by Serena’s phone and Serena smiles in apology. It’s Jason and he seems relieved to talk to his Auntie is person. Bernie makes it understood through gestures that she is going to prepare food and ducks out, a grin on her face that could light a thousand homes. 

 

It should be awkward, Bernie thinks as they walk slowly in the park after lunch, but it isn’t. It feels natural to be with Serena, it feels right. They spot a bench near a pond and sit down to allow Serena to catch her breath. She is doing very well, seems eager to get back to normal, and when Bernie spots the cheeky glimmer in Serena’s eyes, she can guess why. 

“Feels odd to be out and about like this in the middle of a workday,” Serena says, looking around at the people and the ducks. 

The air is crisp and the sky a washed out blue. Bernie can’t remember the last time she went for a stroll in a park. Her days off are usually taken up with chores and punishing runs. This is nice, hanging out with Serena, their hands touching on the bench. 

“Reminds me of when I was on leave. I used to take the kids out, just the three of us. They loved the park,” Bernie says with a wistful smile. 

Serena reaches out and grabs her hand, intertwines their fingers. 

“Heard from them recently?” She asks softly. 

Bernie ducks her head, her fringe hiding her eyes. 

“Cameron came round for dinner last week. He’s bringing Charlotte next time,” she says happily.

“Oh, I am so glad, Bernie. You should’ve told me, you didn’t mention anything!”

“Ah well, things were a little…” Bernie shrugs. 

“Yes, about that,” Serena starts to say. 

“I’m sorry. I got scared. I thought you…you didn’t want me. This. That you just wanted to stay friends, and we’d become such close friends, and I’ve ruined so many friendships, Serena. I didn’t want to ruin ours, you are so important to me. I’m sorry.” 

Oh, how good it feels to talk about this, Bernie thinks with a rush. For once in her life, she is free to be herself. There is no shame, no fear, only love. 

Serena is holding both her hands in hers and looking at her with bright, shining eyes. 

“Oh Bernie, I’m sorry too, I should have said something. I…I was so, so surprised that life had this in store for me. I couldn’t believe my luck!” Serena says, her face open and honest. 

And it is astonishing that they found each other, Bernie thinks as Serena cuddles into her, their hands interlaced on her lap. 

 

Of course, Serena takes an unholy level of pleasure in making Bernie flustered. Serena is impatient and devastatingly attractive, and Bernie has to remove hands from under her shirt, takes numerous cold showers, tries to be the bigger person. Serena kisses her everywhere in the house, sometimes at baffling moments, like when Bernie has just been soundly beaten by Jason at Countdown when he visits, or when Bernie brings Serena ice cream in bed because she is too tired to stay up for dessert. She kisses Bernie in the park, her hand warm under Bernie’s coat. She kisses her in the wine aisle of Sainsbury’s, right there next to the French section, laughing at Bernie’s little surprised squawk. She kisses her in the Thai place over a steaming bowl of green curry after Bernie goes on a rant about privatising the NHS. She is so free and fearless and that makes Bernie bold too. For the first time in her life, she holds a woman’s hand in the street. She calls Serena “my girlfriend” to a bemused shopkeeper when buying figs at the posh organic place. It feels liberating. She’s 51, is a divorced mother of two who has been trying to figure her life out, and life has given her a chance to be happy. 

Five days after Serena has come home, Ric declares her fit to return to work and she’s scheduled back after the weekend. He sends them off with a frankly inappropriate twinkle in his eyes, but Bernie can’t bring herself to care, not when Serena has a hand on her thigh as she drives them back. There is a delicious tension in the car, and it hangs thick between them all the way to the house. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, Serena presses Bernie against the wall and kisses her senseless, her body hot and her tongue insistent. 

“Finally,” she moans in Bernie’s mouth. 

All of Bernie’s Christmases have come at once. She gathers up Serena in her arms, puts a hand on the back of her neck, the other on her lower back and lets herself go. She has been a very good girl these past few days, and Serena seems hell bent on giving her a trophy. She grabs one of Serena’s thighs and slips a leg between Serena’s and Serena is ridding her and mewling in her mouth and it’s the hottest thing Bernie has ever experienced. 

“Oh god Bernie, yes, yes,” Serena chants. 

Her hands are clutching Bernie’s shoulders like her life depends on it, and Bernie knows there will be bruises, but that doesn’t seem to matter when Serena’s hips are rolling against her thigh and Bernie can feel the heat coming off her. 

“You feel so good,” she gasps, her hand pulling Serena’s short hair so she can press kisses onto Serena’s neck. 

She’s noticed how Serena hisses when bitten and oh how’s she’s dreamed of that neck and those collarbones. She sucks at a spot under Serena’s ear, drags her teeth along a tendon and smiles when Serena cries out and her hips buck. 

“Bed. Now, Major,” Serena growls. 

The words leave a trail of fire in Bernie’s brain. Serena is panting and her eyes are glassy, and she only puts up a weak protest when Bernie grabs her other thigh and hoists her up, her arms coming to rest around Bernie’s neck. 

“This ok?” Bernie asks as she takes the first few steps towards the stairs. 

Serena answers with a searing kiss, her legs locked behind Bernie’s back. It’s always been somewhat of a fantasy to carry a woman like this, and Serena has featured pretty extensively in the past months, so Bernie savours it. Her arm is wrapped around Serena’s torso and the other one is buried in Serena’s hair and they don’t stop kissing as Bernie climbs the stairs. 

She’s done the trip a few times now so she knows without looking which bedroom is the right one and they sink into bed, Bernie carefully lowering Serena. She might be fit for work but that doesn’t mean they should be performing acrobatics. Yet. 

“Take this off,” Serena pleads, her hands on Bernie’s shirt. 

Bernie made sure to dress in clothes that Serena appreciates. She has a white shirt on that Serena confessed to wanting to rip off, and black jeans that are fit to give ‘heart attacks’, apparently. Serena’s fingers, usually so sure, fumble with the buttons, so Bernie sits up and helps her with a huffed chuckle. 

“Hush, you. You’ve just carried me up the stairs, I’m barely functioning,” Serena growls. 

Bernie laughs this time, so happy and in love, and chucks her shirt off, blushing a little when she sees Serena’s eyes darken. 

“Oh, Bernie. You are so beautiful,” Serena whispered, her hand trailing along her sides and her belly. 

Bernie ducks her head, a little embarrassed, but Serena doesn’t give her time to dwell on it. She pulls Bernie in for a kiss, her hands roaming on Bernie’s naked back. Bernie goes to straddle her, but stops and frowns. 

“Um, I don’t want to pull your stitches,” she says. 

Serena groans, obviously frustrated. Bernie takes her face in her hands and quiets her with kisses, long and deep, until she has Serena moaning in her mouth. 

“Let me do all the work,” Bernie says in Serena’s ear. 

Serena moans again, her eyes almost black. Bernie slides next to her, her head propped up on one hand, her legs tangling naturally with Serena’s. She caresses Serena’s face, her thumb dragging her bottom lip and Serena pulls it in her mouth, sucking lightly. Bernie feels it all the way between her legs. 

“Oh, that’s unfair, Ms Campbell. Very distracting,” Bernie tuts, her voice unsteady. 

Serena has a look on her face that’s probably illegal in most countries, one that makes Bernie’s belly swoop and clench. She leans down and kisses her, her fingers making short work of Serena’s blouse. They sit up long enough to remove Serena’s undershirt and Bernie’s eyes take in Serena in all her glory, from her bare shoulders to her belly. She is gorgeous. 

“Serena. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Bernie says. 

Serena’s mouth twists in a pleased smile. Her hands are caressing Bernie’s bare arms and they tremble when Bernie starts kissing her neck. She smells so good it makes Bernie’s head spin. The scent is a mix of something sweet that Bernie recognises as her shampoo, and something spicier and stronger. Whatever it is Bernie loves it. She licks a trail from Serena’s shoulder to her ear, bites a tendon and Serena makes an “ah” sound. She soothes the mark with her tongue and Serena squirms. 

“Please, Bernie, god, please don’t tease,” Serena whimpers. 

Bernie kisses her hard to reassure her. There will plenty of time to tease her later. Bernie only wants to give her pleasure. She knows Serena must be close. The room is filled with moans as Bernie slowly makes her way down Serena’s body. The bra is thrown somewhere over the bed, and Bernie learns that Serena likes to have her breasts sucked and bitten. She has difficulty holding Serena down on the bed, but her hands stay gentle and try to soothe as she kneads Serena’s sides and lick her way down Serena’s belly. The skin is very soft there, and Serena is ticklish, which Bernie files for later. The appendectomy scar is red and stark and Bernie brushes her lips lightly along it, her hands on the band of Serena’s trousers. She smiles when Serena tries to help open the button of her fly, and she bats her hands away, peels off the trousers, kisses her way back, mapping Serena’s body with her lips and her tongue. She settles between Serena’s legs and looks up. Serena is trembling with need. 

“I’ve got you, Serena. I love you,” Bernie says reverently. 

Serena nods jerkily, her mouth open in gasps. Her hands are clutching at the sheets. 

“I want to make you feel so good,” Bernie continues. 

She spreads Serena’s legs gently, moans when she sees how keyed up Serena is, how the tendons in her neck are jutting out. She leans forwards and kisses the creamy white thighs, drinking in Serena’s whimpers. She places a few bites as well and the moans get more desperate. She can smell Serena now, her brain short circuits and she almost rips off Serena’s underwear. A black, lacy number she’ll appreciate later. It ends up on a lampshade on the other side of the room. 

She can’t believe she’s about to do this. The sight of Serena with her legs open and so wet and so swollen makes her heart thud in her chest. 

“You are perfect,” she whispers against Serena’s thigh. 

She hears a mewl and smiles, giddy with lust and love, and finally takes Serena in her mouth. Serena screams, her muscles taut, and one of her hands finds Bernie’s hair. She tugs and pulls as Bernie finds a rhythm that makes her writhe. She bends her knees. Bernie looks up, sees Serena staring right back, her eyes black and her face distorted in a grimace of pleasure. The image takes her breath away. Her tongue swirls and swipes and Serena’s hand tightens against her scalp and suddenly Bernie feels her fluttering against her mouth and her thighs are shaking and Serena keens and it’s the best feeling the world, forget graduating from medical school, forget saving her first life, getting her first medal, forget everything, this is it. 

She presses hot kisses on Serena’s belly, slides back up to gather Serena in her arms and tucks her under her chin. Serena’s breathing is harsh and shallow and she’s holding on for dear life. 

“What. On. Earth,” she says after a while, her voice full of surprise and wonder. 

Bernie feels a laugh bubbling up her chest and she lets it out.

“You are amazing,” Serena continues, peppering kisses on Bernie’s face.

Smug doesn’t even begin to cover it. Bernie feels 10 feet tall. Her smile is wide and free. They kiss and Bernie tries to keep her hands to herself, and it becomes far easier when Serena takes them and puts them above her head. Serena looks down, her face flushed, her eyes dark and intent and her mouth open. 

“Is this ok?” She asks, their chests flushed together.

Bernie nods frantically. She’s not going to last long with Serena looking at her like she’s a tasty dessert. Her chest heaves when Serena leans down to kiss her hungrily, her tongue silky in her mouth, her hands cupping her face. She’s enveloped by Serena, there is only her, in this moment. Her own hands are still above her and the stretch helps her to focus. She doesn’t want to miss a second of this. Serena seems to want to touch everything, and she just tugs down Bernie’s bra and swipes her tongue across a puckered nipple. Bernie gasps, her body arching in a bow. Serena’s eyes don’t leave her face, pitch black and so full of need and love that Bernie moans. 

“Talk to me,” Bernie demands with a whine. 

She loves Serena’s voice, wants to hear it, now. Serena smiles around a nipple and Bernie can see her teeth, white and straight. 

“Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this,” Serena says, her voice deep. 

Bernie shudders. Serena takes her earlobe between her teeth, her fingernails scrapping the underside of Bernie’s breasts. 

“You wonderful, wonderful woman. You’ve turned my world upside down, you know that? So beautiful, so strong, so loving,” Serena whispers hotly in Bernie’s ear. 

Bernie gasps, takes deep gulps of air, enthralled by Serena’s words. 

“You make me crazy, Bernie. I think about you all the time,” Serena continues. 

Bernie stretches with a moan when she feels Serena’s hand trailing down her body, her skin on fire, so, so close she can taste it at the back of her throat. Serena sits up and takes off Bernie’s jeans, looks at them fondly but discards them behind her shoulder. 

“When you kissed me that first time, I went home and straight to bed, and I was so wet,” Serena says now, her hand stroking Bernie’s thighs, her blunt fingernails drawing gasps. 

The words are sinful and Bernie is desperate, her hands shaking above her head, her eyes pleading with Serena. 

“Do you want to know what I did? That night, in bed?” Serena asks, her voice a hot whisper. 

Bernie makes a sound she doesn’t recognise, a low keening whine. 

“Tell me, Bernie,” Serena demands.

Her hand is between Bernie’s legs, her fingertips playing the waistband of her underwear. 

“Yes, uh, god, Serena, yes,” Bernie mumbles in a rush. 

Her eyes are glued to Serena’s hand, her breathing now just a series of gasps and pants. She can feel Serena smile against her neck. 

“I thought of you. All night, I thought of you,” Serena whispers. 

Bernie’s hips shoot off the bed when two fingers slide into her. Serena moans in her ear.

“Oh god, you feel…you feel so good,” Serena stutters. 

The wonder in her voice makes Bernie’s heart soar. Serena sets a rhythm, deep and slow and Bernie’s eyes roll at the back of her head. 

“I am so in love with you,” Serena says, her teeth grazing Bernie’s collarbones. 

Bernie’s mouth opens in a soundless scream, her hips off the bed, and she comes and comes and it won’t stop and all she can do is ride it out, safe in Serena’s arms, buried in Serena’s chest. 

She loses track of time, suspended in a little cloud of pleasure, and when she comes to, Serena is stroking her hair, their limbs tangled in sweaty heap. 

“I’m going to want to do that a lot,” Serena says earnestly. 

Bernie laughs, a honk escaping her lips, and they are both laughing, clutching at each other. 

“Oh, I think I can be persuaded,” Bernie says when they’ve calmed down. 

It’s still the middle of the day, and Jason will be home soon, and Bernie needs to go to her flat because she has no clothes left, but for now it’s only them. 

“Stitches ok? You feel ok?” Bernie asks after a few languid kisses. 

Serena nods and stretches a little, like a satisfied cat. 

“This should be part all post-op treatments,” she says with a half smile that make Bernie’s heart race. 

“Oh yes? I’ll be sure to make myself available for Fletch’s recovery,” Bernie chuckles. 

Serena’s eyes widen and she swats Bernie on her shoulder. 

“Wench!” 

Bernie sniggers and tries to get away from Serena’s poking fingers. It’s all fun and games until Serena slips a leg between Bernie’s and they both moan at the contact. 

“Well, well, well, Ms Campbell, I better check your vitals,” 

Serena bursts out laughing at the cheesy line and there it is again, that feeling that she wants to make Serena do that for ever, just wants to make Serena happy. 

She reaches upwards and kisses her, her heart full, her eyes only seeing Serena and her smile. She puts her hand on Serena’s pulse point at her neck and pretends to count the beats. 

“BP is regular. I predict you’ll have a long and healthy life, Ms Campbell,” she says in mock seriousness. 

Serena looks down and her smile is blinding. 

“Yes, I rather think I will,” she replies.


End file.
